


Term of Endearment

by ch19777



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-28
Updated: 2009-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-06 17:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ch19777/pseuds/ch19777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forget Sam Spade. Forget Philip Marlowe. Patrick Jane is intrigued. And jealous, though he would deny it. Either way, PI Jane won't rest until the strange case of Teresa Lisbon's mysterious phone call and possible boyfriend is solved. Oh well, just read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curiosity aroused

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I don't own The Mentalist or its characters.
> 
>  
> 
> Funny what ideas pop into your mind under the shower. Seriously, half of my dissertation came to me while showering. And now the idea for this story. This is more fun to write.

It is a sunny afternoon on a Friday in spring. A tricky case just got closed, a bunch of wayward criminals was put behind bars and to top the satisfaction of all this off, a free weekend for the whole team is only some keystrokes away.

Everyone is adding the finishing touches to the paperwork that inevitably comes up with every case. Well, everyone but me, to be accurate. Me, I don't care for desk work at all. My part of the investigation is done. Case solved, bad guys caught, confessions teased out of them. So I slouch on my favorite piece of furniture in the office, pretending to almost fall asleep while reading a magazine and wait for the others to leave, so I can spread out on the couch and make the office my home for this weekend.

With half-closed eyes I watch Cho typing with his right hand and using the left one to lift up his coffee mug to his mouth every 35 seconds, glancing at his watch between sips. He probably has a hot date tonight and can't wait to get out of here. I chuckle inwardly as I think that he would be a whole lot faster without the sipping and the glancing.

Van Pelt and Rigsby sit at another table, vis-à-vis, each proofreading the other's report. It is kind of cute, actually, seeing how they try to act all professionally and casually. The effort is in vain though as they are also playing footsie under the table.

While I observe the unhealthy drinking habits and frisky mating rituals around me, I never lose sight of Lisbon's ajar office door. I walked by nonchalantly earlier to check if it was a good time to interrupt. She was typing vigorously with her brows drawn together in a slight frown and her lips pursed, so I decided to wait.

I tilt my head sideways to look at the wall clock. She is writing that report for 58 minutes now. Judging from experience and taking into account the complexity of the case and the amount of interrogations conducted, she should be pretty much done by now.

Slowly I rise, pleasurably stretching every fibre of my body.

Simmering with excitement, I head across the hall to pay a visit to Lisbon. The recent case gave me practically zero chance to interact with her and seeing that I now won't see her for two whole days, I need at least _something_ to get me through the weekend. Some banter to analyze while lying on my couch and consuming all the food the office refrigerator has to offer. Or maybe I should start a fight with her and then occupy myself with finding the best way to get on her good side again.

I hear her before I reach her office and stop in front of the door. She's now speaking in a soft and low voice, so I don't really understand what she's saying. She's sitting at her desk, facing away from me, and slightly swivels in her chair from one side to the other. One hand holds the phone and the other twirls a pen. By the way she moves her hand, I can tell that it is more a relaxed than a nervous gesture. The pages of her finished report are lying neatly aligned on her desk.

Then she does something unexpected: she laughs. Wholeheartedly and genuinely. I've never seen her like that before, completely laid-back as if she doesn't have a single trouble in the world. Lisbon in weekend mode. Or, even more so, right now I don't see Teresa Lisbon, Senior Agent at the CBI. Instead I get a glimpse at the private Teresa Lisbon, the alter ego she stores away carefully when she's working. It's confusing. But the novelty is also very appealing. I wouldn't mind getting to know that side of her better.

She spins around, allows me to see her face without herself noticing me. Her body language indicates that the phone call is about to come to an end.

"Yes, I'll see you then." Silence while she listens to the person on the other end of the line. An affectionate smile illuminates her features. "I love you, too, honey. Bye."

Honey? I love you? I didn't see that one coming. Not only doesn't Lisbon strike me as the type to give people corny pet names, the outcome of the phone call and the unknown identity of her mysterious conversation partner also causes my imagination to run riot. I'm still processing the idea that there might things go on in Lisbon's life that I so far failed to derive from her everyday behavior, when the door opens and the subject of my musing stands right in front of me.

"Jane, hey. Did you want to talk to me?" I'm aware that I'm staring, taking in her happy face, the glow she radiates. Yes, new boyfriend, most definitely. How did I miss that? Since I never saw her like that before, it could be a recent thing and I shouldn't beat myself up for not noticing earlier. But then again, people usually don't get to the 'I love you' stage right at the beginning of a relationship.

"Jane?"

Grudgingly I snap out of my reverie to find her looking at me inquiringly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "You okay, Jane?"

"You look happy." I simply state instead of answering her question. My voice sounds strangely prim to my own ears. If she notices it, she doesn't show.

"Of course I do! We finally closed the Harris case, I have a whole weekend without work ahead of me and it looks like the weather will be really nice as well the next days."

She's good. I almost believe her that some days off and some sunbeams are the sole reason for her good mood. But the 'Honey' is still ringing in my ears.

"So, there's nothing new?"

"New?" She is pulling off a quite convincing confused look now. Oh, _please_.

I decide to try a different approach. "Do you have any special plans this weekend?"

"Nah, just relaxing. You?"

"No, same as you." I reply, although a plan for an exciting weekend activity just begins to take form inside my mind and to lift my spirit.

"Well, have a nice weekend, Jane. See you on Monday." Lisbon says while extracting her car keys from her purse.

I grab her hand which holds a jumbled bunch of keys. Her pulse rate is slightly faster than normal. It could be a sign that she's hiding something. Or maybe that's only what a crazy consultant abruptly clutching her wrist does to her.

"Can I have my hand back now?" The amusement that gleamed in her eyes earlier is now fully exposed in her tone. Her pulse rate slows down.

Why is she not the tiniest bit angry with me, like usually when I pull crap like that on her? I let go of her hand and wish her a nice weekend.

As the door of the elevator closes behind her, I take my own car keys and rush down the stairs.

* * *


	2. Patrick Jane, PI

I've got a stitch when I reach the end of the stairs. For a moment I allow myself to stop, gasping for breath. Frank, the security guard, throws a peculiar look in my direction, probably deliberating whether he should call for medical attendance. Or for the men from the funny farm to take me away. He never liked me.

Straightening up, I smile at him disarmingly. As disarmingly as it is possible when your lungs almost collapse. "Cardio training." He knits his brows. Not the desired effect. "No need to worry, I'm fine."

With a weak wave of my hand I leave the building, only to see Lisbon's car exiting the parking lot to the right. I silently curse my lack of fitness as I run to my car.

There's no sign of Lisbon as I finally hit the road. If she's heading for her apartment, as I think she is, then she very likely turned left at the first intersection. So I veer into the same direction, cutting off two other cars in the process, and make it over the junction a split second before the traffic light switches to red. I exhale relieved at the sight of Lisbon's dark SUV a couple of cars ahead. There's heavy traffic and it'll be easier to keep track of her now.

My plan of action isn't entirely concocted yet. Right now, I'm merely acting on impulse, triggered by Lisbon's unusual behavior earlier. Following my hunches most likely leads to the desired result in the end. Which is in this case primarily revealing the identity of Lisbon's assumed boyfriend. And maybe interfering with the relationship if necessary. This weekend might be my best chance. A laugh, an 'I love you' and a 'honey' isn't much to base an investigation upon or to justify a car chase, but since I would otherwise brood over the situation all weekend, taking action seems like the better option.

A couple of cars turn left and right, leaving only three cars between Lisbon and me. For the first time ever I regret owning such a flashy car. I slow down a little, allowing a truck at a gas station to pull onto the road. The street in front of Lisbon is clearing and she's gradually speeding up. She must be well above the speed-limit now. I'm quite certain that she's not going so fast because she noticed me. Who would have thought that off-duty Lisbon is a speeder? I'll so use that knowledge against her the next time she accuses me of driving too fast. Already finding out one well-hidden vice of her at the very beginning of my investigation confirms that my mission is indeed a good idea.

The truck directly in front of me exits, so I slow down and follow Lisbon at a more discreet distance for the next few miles. As the subject of my observation makes a left, entering the street where she lives, I slowly pull over to wait a minute or two. The guy behind me honks furiously, but I don't care. The parking lot of Lisbon's apartment building is very close to the road and I don't want to risk her spotting me. I really hope she hasn't already.

When I think it's safe to go on, I pull into Lisbon's street and look out for her home on the right side. I brake hard when I notice her still standing outside the building. Momentarily I think that my cover is blown and she waits for me to kick my ass like never before. But no, her attention isn't focused on me – she is talking to a guy. I should feel relieved, but instead my hackles raise when I imagine this to be _the_ guy.

Come on, this would be way too easy, wouldn't it?

I park my Citroen on the side of the road and proceed on foot to get a better look. While I move closer to Lisbon's house, I'm thankful that she chose a neighborhood where the pavements are lined with bushes to hide behind.

The guy sports a dark ponytail, is about two heads taller than Lisbon and wears black, tight pants and a black shirt. Both of them are smiling. Shoot me now if this is 'honey'. Now he's placing an unidentifiable object in Lisbon's palm and holds on to her hand a moment too long for my taste. To my relief, Lisbon seems pretty uncomfortable with the physical contact as well.

Just as I consider stepping up to them, putting my arm around Lisbon's waist and introducing myself as her fiancé to Mr. Ponytail, a blonde woman carrying a vanity case exits the building and immediately grabs hold of the guy's hand. She and Lisbon exchange a few words and Lisbon holds up the object the guy gave her – keys, as I can make out now. Aha! Mr. Ponytail and Blondie are Lisbon's neighbors who are going on vacation and want Lisbon to water their plants or whatever it is neighbors do for each other. The guy says something to Lisbon and the woman tightens her grip around his hand in response. Interesting. Blondie feels threatened by Lisbon. She trusts her with her property, but not with her man. Calm down, woman. Lisbon isn't interested and she would have that guy begging for mercy within seconds if he'd ever dare to really make a pass at her.

Finally the couple heads for their car and Lisbon, after checking her mailbox, enters the house. A woman pushing a stroller walks past me and throws a disapproving glare at me. I straighten up and pretend to intensely read a flyer at a nearby lamppost, regarding a missing cat, until the woman stops staring and Lisbon's neighbors drive past me. Huh, poor Muffin is already missing for 7 days now.

I examine the exterior of the house and its surroundings, looking for a secluded spot for my car. I've been inside Lisbon's apartment only once. I was early to pick her up for a work trip and instead of waiting in the car, I sneaked in when someone else left the building. When I knocked at the door of her apartment she was too surprised to keep me from entering, but only a minute later she was ready to go. But that visit gave me enough time to be sure now, that the right window on the front of the house in the topmost floor belongs to her living room.

I get back to my car and drive it to a place where it should be hardly visible from Lisbon's apartment or the front door, but I still get a decent look through some bushes.

Now it's waiting for either Lisbon leaving the house or for someone showing up to visit her. At the same time I can't help hoping that nothing will happen and Lisbon will really only have a nice, relaxing weekend all by herself.

After 5 minutes I realize that I'm not properly equipped for a stakeout. I didn't even bring snacks.

9 minutes later I notice that Lisbon's neighborhood is awfully quiet. Not one car entered the street since I arrived, which isn't really surprising though as it is a dead-end. The lady I saw earlier when I read about Muffin's fate remains the only passer-by so far.

37 minutes into the observation the incipient darkness causes Lisbon to switch on the lights in her living room. Tenants of two other apartments follow her example.

11 minutes later a guy walking zigzag approaches the house. He has a key. Some anxious minutes I wonder if he ended up at Lisbon's place. But finally the lights in the right downstairs apartment go on. He probably only had trouble finding the keyhole and the light switch in his intoxicated condition.

Another 35 minutes pass before the next person nears the building. It's a pizza guy. Maybe Lisbon celebrates the beginning of her weekend with pizza. Or the drunk guy ordered some hangover food. At the thought of pizza, my stomach rumbles to remind me that lunch was the last meal I had.

Meanwhile it is 8:43 PM and I doubt that Lisbon will go out tonight. But you never know if someone will pay her a late-night visit.

Frankly though, this surveillance is boring. I usually love nightly stakeouts at a suspect's house. But then we always have food and someone else, usually Lisbon, is in the car with me for talking and playing mind games and occasionally fighting for the control over the car radio. Once she fell asleep and even watching her nap and later pretending I hadn't noticed her slip-up was entertaining. Alone, this is no fun.

I get out of the car to go for a little walk. A cinnamon cat crosses my path as I make my way over to Lisbon's house. While I wonder if this cat might be the missing Muffin, the fire ladders suddenly catch my attention. Interesting. There are two of them on both sides of the front of the house. They are simple, straight ladders going from the ground to the roof and are dangerously close to the living room windows. Burglars' paradise. Some of the windows are open. Lisbon's isn't. Working in crime fighting, she knows better. My hand touches the cool metal of the ladder on Lisbon's side of the building. A little rusty, but otherwise this thing seems pretty stable.

Without allowing reason to prevail I step onto the ladder. Two treads later I am able to look inside the intoxicated guy's window. He's smoking and talking on the phone, his feet resting next to an almost empty pizza box on the table.

Holding on to the ladder, I ponder my options: The reasonable one would be going back to my car and sitting and watching in mind-numbing darkness all night. Or, I could climb up that ladder and have a quick look at Lisbon to maybe find out what her further plans for tonight are.

Well...

Plan B, definitely.

The thought of fully climbing up that ladder excites me. I am PI Jane, out on a dangerous mission to save a damsel in distress. But reality bites midway: more than anything else, this feels like a grown man crawling up a shabby jungle gym at a playground.

When I finally reach the level of Lisbon's window, my aching hands are almost unable to hold on anymore. And to complete my misery: As I peek into the room, it is empty. Since it is still illuminated, she must come back eventually, so I hope.

I alternate between hands, one always clinging to the ladder, the other relaxing. Yes, this way I can bear this a while longer. Finally Lisbon reappears, looking wonderful in a fluffy, orange bathrobe and her hair loosely pinned up. She must have just taken a bath.

As she starts to apply lotion to her legs, I get nervous.

As she continues with her feet and massages them I feel a lump forming in my throat.

As she puts away the bottle of lotion and starts unfastening the belt of her robe, I nearly let go of the ladder.

As the cloth slowly slips down her body and reveals her bare shoulders and back, I know I'm in deep trouble.

I don't want to see her naked, not like this. I couldn't forgive myself to invade her privacy at such a rate that I wouldn't be able to ever look her in the eyes again. But I am paralyzed, unable to move or even to close my eyes.

After some endless seconds of self-torture and emotional turmoil Lisbon releases me by stepping out of the room and leaving the continuation of her body care to my imagination. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. Sure, I wanted excitement, but sitting in my car down there seems pretty comfortable now.

After a while I cautiously throw one last glance into the room and see Lisbon entering again. Dressed in striped pajama bottoms and a blue tank top, carrying a bottle of wine and _one_ glass. She inserts a DVD into the player, curls up on the couch and sets my mind to ease as I realize that at least for tonight I don't have to worry about some guy stealing her away from me. I take in her relaxed and content features and memorize this picture.

Then I'm ready to finally climb down that damn ladder again. It goes surprisingly well. Tread after tread after tread I make my way down...and trip at the third to last one. I graze my right hand, the phone in my pocket hits the floor, followed by my body.

Quickly I struggle to my feet and scan the grass for my phone, as the thing draws attention to itself by ringing and flashing up. Good timing for someone calling me. But one look at the display vastly reduces my delight. I contemplate throwing my phone away and running for my life as the cute deer-in-the-headlights photo of Lisbon, that I took of her earlier this week, reveals the caller's identity.

Oh well, I might just as well except my fate and get my wipe-down right away.

"Hello?" I answer warily while walking back to my car, already thinking of excuses I could give her for my inexcusable behavior.

"Hey, Jane." She does sound friendly. That's good. Or it's a trap. "Could you do me a favor?"

I doubt she wants me to help her with that lotion. I clear my throat. "Anytime."

"You know, I just remembered that I forgot to check the coffee maker before leaving the office. Nobody else ever does and I'm not sure I switched it off this afternoon. I'm 99 percent sure that I did, but that 1 percent is really bothering me. And you know how Minelli is when it comes to fire control and job safety. I really don't want to be responsible for torching the CBI building."

That is not what I expected. My mood brightens immensely. "Okay... And you want me to do what now? Use telekinesis to switch the coffee maker off?"

"No." She actually chuckles. "I'm too lazy to drive to the office now, but since you spend the night there anyway, could you please check for me?"

"I'm not spending the night in the office! " How does she know stuff like that?

"Oh come on, sure you do. Whenever we have a few days off, you bring a traveling bag to work. And on the first workday afterwards all the food in the refrigerator is gone and you are there on time for once."

I had no idea I was being so obvious. But I'm too grateful that she doesn't know where I am right now to deny it any further. Teasing her a little bit is irresistible though. "So you call because you are worried for my safety?"

"Could you please just go look?" I grin. That's the Lisbon I know.

I am silent for the time it would take me to get from my couch to the kitchen. "It's off."

"Great. Thank you."

"Lisbon?"

"Yes?"

Can I come by and cuddle up to you on the couch and make us both forget about that other guy you might be seeing? "Nothing. Good night, Lisbon." Coward.

"Good night, Jane." She softly says before hanging up and leaving me to cope on my own with my misdemeanors and missed chances of this day.

I drive through town to my house to get some stuff. My overnight bag is already at the office, but I need some snack food and binoculars and disguise for tomorrow's observation. If you thought I'll give up now, think again. Today's events might have been confusing and I might have gone astray a couple of times, but I also feel like I've never seen clearer before.

I'll find out if Lisbon is dating someone and I'll take the action needed when I know all the facts. I could add 'and if it's the last thing I ever do ', but that would be a little too lofty.

Half an hour later I arrive at the CBI. Luckily, Frank got meanwhile replaced by another security guard.

I put my bag next to the couch and then go to the kitchen. The coffee maker is indeed off. The refrigerator has a surprisingly good selection today. I toy with the idea that Lisbon might have stocked up on supplies, knowing that I'd stay here. Nah. Or did she?

My couch is waiting for me, but somehow I don't feel as soothed as usually when I lay down on the worn leather. I don't expect deep sleep, but snoozing for a while would be nice.

When I still don't feel relaxed enough for a nap almost an hour later, I get up again, walk over to Lisbon's office and settle down in her chair. Funny, there are very few personal items in her office, but still I can feel her presence in the room almost physically. I lean back and swivel from one side to the other as I saw her do this afternoon. I look at the photos of dogs on her desk, her neatly stored away pens... Then I see the telephone and mentally slap myself for not thinking of this earlier. I push the redial button, but seeing my own cell phone number on the display puts a damper on my enthusiasm. Of course. Lisbon had called me before starting to write her report to ask something case related while I was hiding out in the cafeteria. So the mysterious phone call was an incoming one. I'm sure it's possible to trace those as well, but unfortunately I never pay attention to stuff like that. If I don't find anything out this weekend, I might ask Van Pelt for help on Monday.

Just as I settle back again for a nap, a half-open drawer of the desk catches my attention. Searching through it seems a minor violation compared to what I already did today. Work stuff. More work stuff. Boring. Ooh, Lisbon's vacation form. Interesting. She requested and was permitted two weeks of vacation starting in 10 days. I can't remember her ever taking so many days off at once. Plus, shouldn't she mention this to the team? Who will be her stand-in? And most importantly: What has she planned for those two weeks? And who is she making those plans with?

Lisbon and the mysterious caller are still haunting me as I slowly doze off. Oh well, tomorrow's another day.

PI Jane needs some rest now.


	3. The Duke and the King

I rise from my couch at the crack of dawn.

About midnight I woke up from a fitful slumber, still hunching in Lisbon's chair. Since my back was killing me, I moved to a more comfortable place to crash. I wasn't able to fall asleep anymore after that, caused by my racing mind and a dull ache in my hurt hand. So I lay in the darkness, waiting for the new day to begin and itching to continue snooping around in Lisbon's life.

So far, while gaining some insight into Lisbon's off-time routine, I didn't gather many clues regarding the mysterious caller's identity.

My mental checklist, drafted and refined in the wee hours of the morning, looks like this:

_Subject's name/age/occupation/location:_ unknown

_Subject's nickname:_ Honey

_Additional information:_

Subject is either a fool or a workaholic or lives out of town since he let Lisbon spend her Friday night alone; according to Lisbon's "I'll see you then" subject will surface sooner or later; slight (and preferred) possibility that subject is not Lisbon's boyfriend

After freshening up in the bathroom, I put on my disguise (jeans and T-shirt – she'll never recognize me) and have a quick breakfast. Then I prepare my equipment: binoculars, sunglasses, some chips, a bottle of water, a thermos of tea plus a cup and some reading material to help me pass the time. On second thoughts I add a black baseball cap (for close-range observation) and one of my suits (in case more formal clothes are required).

Then I turn my attention to the problem at hand: I need a less recognizable car. The most nondescript car in the world. Yesterday I was lucky to not get caught, but I rather don't want to push my luck. I thought of getting a rental car, but then I had a better idea.

Rigsby picks up the phone after 6 rings. His "Hm?" sounds drowsy and slightly annoyed. I can't blame him. It's before 7 AM on a Saturday morning and, judging by the female whispering in the background, he didn't get much sleep.

"Good morning, Rigsby!" I exclaim as cheerily as possible.

Unintelligible grumbling. A pause. "Jane?"

"Yes. Say hey to Grace from me."

I knew that would do the trick to fully wake him up. He starts rattling off his usual, not very convincing, counter statement, which I have to cut off. Time is short. Who knows when Lisbon will get up today?

"Rigsby, relax. It's okay. Now listen to me. I need to borrow your car. Wait, hear me out first. I'm sure I can silence all your worries beforehand. You can have my car meanwhile, although I doubt you'll feel the urge to leave home this weekend. I'll take as good care of your car as if it was my own, even though it isn't as pretty as mine. You'll get your car back at the latest on Sunday evening, shiny and fully fueled. Just put your key under the doormat at your front door and I'll drop mine in your mailbox. I'll be there in about 15 minutes. And no, I can't tell you why I need your car. Be assured, I won't use it for anything illegal." And if I do, Rigsby doesn't need to know that.

I hang up before he has the chance to reply anything and get ready to leave. Rigsby will do as I told him, I have no doubt. I called him on his landline, so he is at home. His only other options would be completely ignoring my request or waiting for me at his doorstep to discuss the matter. Both of it would result into me making a fuss and him having to leave his bed for longer than a minute, and he knows it.

As I exit the building, the sun begins to rise. This day promises to be a good one. I whistle as I drive over to Rigsby's. The car swap takes place swiftly without any unforeseen occurrences.

I arrive at Lisbon's house at 7:17 AM and park the car in yesterday's place. Lisbon's SUV doesn't look as if it has been moved since I left last night. There's no sign of life in any of the windows of the house. Lisbon is probably sleeping in on her day off and I might not even see anything of her before noon.

But only two cups of tea, one pee break behind a bush and one and a half crossword puzzle later Lisbon shows up, clad in an outfit very similar to mine. Her shirt is a slightly lighter shade of blue than mine and more fitted, but otherwise we match so perfectly that I can't help grinning like an idiot.

Lisbon heads for her car and pulls onto the street. She drives straight ahead, I tail her from a safe distance. She goes left, I follow. Same old, same old.

We reach a part of town where I've never been before. We're still within the city limits but it doesn't look urban anymore at all. The sun is shining on green meadows and blossoming fruit trees and a small house now and then. I have to stay farther behind now because there's almost no traffic. But, wherever we are going, I have to say I like it here. That is, if we don't end up at Honey's house around the next corner.

Suddenly Lisbon makes a sharp right turn and enters a straight, dusty road which leads uphill and ends at a low building with an orchard at its right side. This track probably isn't frequented by many cars and it would surely catch Lisbon's eye if someone would follow her now. So I pull over and, using my binoculars, I watch her park under a tree, get out of her car and enter the house without knocking.

Next to the door I make out a big sign that reads in burgundy letters "Mrs. Henderson's Home for Rascals and Strays". Curious. I scan the area and notice several spacious kennels close to the orchard, which confirms my assumption that Lisbon led me to a private animal shelter. One with a funny name, but it does look nice enough to provide a kindhearted home for abandoned pets.

I decide to take a risk and to try getting closer to the building. If Lisbon steps out of the house while I drive up the hill, then I'm screwed. I bet nobody ever drove that track as fast as I do. Rigsby would get a heart attack if he could see me. I hide the car on the left side of the house behind some trees, so that Lisbon can't see it when she drives back. Now only the suspicious cloud of dust over the road has to settle before anyone notices it.

I walk along the windowless side of the house and look round the corner. Nothing. As fast as I'm able with my sore muscles, the result of yesterday's climbing adventure, I run to hide in the brush right across from the house.

Just in time I duck, seeing Lisbon surface again. She is accompanied by an elder woman. Mrs. Henderson, I suppose. They walk over to a kennel and let out two dogs, a sandy and a black one, who look exactly like the dogs in the pictures at Lisbon's desk. Both of them are apparently very pleased to see Lisbon and shower her with affection. Eagerly, she returns the favor.

Watching the two humans and two animals interact, I dismiss the spur-of-the-moment idea that Mrs. Henderson might have been the mysterious caller. She and Lisbon just aren't close enough to be on a pet name basis, not to mention for declarations of love. If dogs could make phone calls, my money would be on them.

Lisbon does look cute with those pets, they seem to evoke a softer, playful side of her. It shows in the way she moves and in the way she talks to them. It is obvious that the three of them know each other inside out. Maybe one day Lisbon can tell me their story.

After Mrs. Henderson retreats into the house, Lisbon and the dogs move to a meadow a little bit more distant from my hiding place. The male, sandy one is kind of reluctant to follow her, always looking into my direction and sniffing for clues. Oh no, he has noticed my presence. Great job, Jane. Fooling Lisbon is hard enough as it is, but you can't mislead a dog's instincts. Please let Lisbon's power over him be strong enough to distract him from me.

Oh yes, Teresa Lisbon, the dog whisperer, has that dog as well under control as her subordinates at work. Well, her subordinates not including my humble self. Narrowly escaped, I can now fully enjoy watching Lisbon play with the dogs.

I could watch them frolicking for hours. Lisbon throwing sticks and them fetching them, over and over again, neither of them getting tired of the game. It's a perfect allegory of zest for life. I can imagine that not having time for her own dog is one of the few things Lisbon doesn't like about her job.

After over an hour of jumping and running, Lisbon finally sits down on the grass, a huge smile on her face. The dogs come to rest as well, one on each side of her. She runs her fingers through their coats, caresses them behind the ears, and they close their eyes full of delight. Ah, to be a dog now!

The beeping of a phone suddenly penetrates the perfect peacefulness of the moment.

I know what you think, but really, I'm not so stupid to risk blowing my cover by carrying a cell phone when hiding in the woods. It's Lisbon's phone that rings, which turns out to be just as risky for me as if it was my own. The sandy dog is apparently easily scared. One cheep and he takes off like a barking rocket – into my direction.

Lisbon is luckily too busy, talking on the phone and trying to stop the black dog from jumping up on her, to go after my persecutor right away. I'm a bit sorry that I'm too preoccupied to eavesdrop on the phone call, but I always wanted to try my calming techniques on a dog.

Standing still, I let him sniff me while gently, but firmly talking to him.

"Hello, buddy. You're a good boy, aren't you?" He stops barking.

"You know, that girl over there with the scary, loud phone, I like her just as much as you do." The dog gently nudges my side and wags his tail.

"Maybe you can put in a good word for me, and then soon I can come visit you together with her and we'll bring some yummy dog biscuits. How does that sound?" Marvelous, apparently, as he amply starts licking my hand.

"Duke!" Lisbon has finished her phone call and is on her way to us.

"See, Lisbon is looking for you. You always need to listen to her, okay? She already has her hands full with me because I never do." Duke is wavering, looking back and forth between Lisbon and me.

"Go!" And to my relief, he does and runs over to Lisbon, almost knocking her down. She doesn't mind, but only laughs and pets him."Were you chasing wild rabbits again? Don't let Mrs. Henderson see, you know you'll be in deep trouble." I wish she'd react that nonchalantly and rewarding only once when I misbehave.

When we leave the animal shelter shortly after, I'm pretty pleased with this day so far. The sun is shining, I got a new furry friend, saw a different side of Lisbon and no other men are in sight. Life is good.

The phone call and the unanticipated, bewildering emotions it stirred up inside of me, seem far away and surreal. It suddenly feels exaggerated to spy on Lisbon because of it and what I feel for her doesn't seem so incomprehensible anymore. I make a resolution: If no other guy claims her until sunset, then I'll tempt fate. I won't spend the night watching her from afar, but I'll knock on her door instead.

Right now it doesn't look though as if we'll ever be back to Lisbon's place. Where the heck are we going? Just as I wonder if she's intending to only aimlessly drive around for hours, some kind of quirky hobby maybe, Lisbon exits the highway onto Airport Boulevard.

The airport? Oh, no.

Lisbon didn't put any luggage into her car this morning, so she's not here to travel but to pick someone up. I recall her "I'll see you then" from the phone call and feel panic rise.

This could be the turning point of my observation.

While I follow her across the terminal, I ask myself if I really want to go through with this. Can I bear seeing her fling her arms around some guy's neck and kiss him hello? Maybe he's even a decent man who makes her truly happy and trying to break them up would not be an option. Could I go on pretending that we're only co-workers or at the most friends? Would I be able to continue irritating her and teasing her and making her blush as if nothing has changed? I guess I could, but I don't think I'd want to.

I'm so lost in thoughts that I almost walk past Lisbon, who is standing at the counter of a travel agency, without noticing her. Swiftly I wander off to a nearby coffee shop to observe her exchange with the travel agent from afar. As Lisbon fills out a form, rummages through her purse and then pulls out her credit card, things start looking up again. No sentimental hellos to be afraid of. Only Lisbon booking a flight for her upcoming vacation.

Now I'm dying to know where she's going. And if she's going there alone. The first part I can find out easily by asking her. The reaction to the second question would probably not be an answer, but blushing cheeks and elusiveness. Oh well, when I go visit her tonight I'll make an attempt anyway. She'll give in eventually, she never is able to resist my persuasiveness very long.

Or... Lisbon just entered the ladies' restroom. That gives me approximately two and a half minutes to charm the woman she just talked to into telling me all I need to know. Piece of cake.

I hurry to the counter and manage to outrun a couple who is heading there as well. Flashing the woman at the desk the smile I reserve for situations like this and looking her straight in the eye, I begin my inquiry.

"Hello. I was supposed to meet my fiancée here ten minutes ago. We finally want to book the flights for our honeymoon, but I got stuck in traffic and I can't reach her on her cell. Her name is Teresa Lisbon. Was she already here by any chance?"

By the eager way the woman – Rena, according to her name tag - returns my smile, I can tell that I've wrapped her around my little finger. "Yes, she was here. You've just missed her."

"She didn't already book anything, did she? I told her to wait for me so we could do this together."

"Well, she already purchased the plane tickets for both of you and also made a hotel reservation. I'm sorry."

"Really? Are we flying on the 13th and back on the 27th?" Lisbon's first and last days of vacation.

"No, sir. You're fiancée booked the outward flight for the 14th and the return flight for the 26th."

"The 14th? Really?" I decide to illustrate my hurt feelings with some pouting and puppy dog eyes.

Rena is impressed. "Do you want to modify the booking, sir?" No, I want her to tell me where we... I mean, where Lisbon is going.

"No, I guess it doesn't matter to get there a day later. There's no stopover, is there? Teresa knows I hate intermediate landings." I try to look devastated now. Maybe I overacted a little, Rena doesn't look as charmed anymore.

"I'm really sorry, but there are no non-stop flights from Sacramento to Las Vegas. There's always a stopover either in Denver or in San Francisco."

Vegas? This seems like a very odd choice for Lisbon's vacation, the first real vacation she had in a long time. Something just doesn't feel right.

I'm running out of time and Rena is already looking impatiently at the couple next in line. Still, I need to find out more. "Teresa didn't give you all my data yet, did she? You probably need further information. Do I need to fill out a form or something?

"No. I have both your names, addresses and dates of birth, s _ir_." The way she emphasizes the last word – cool and businesslike – and her decreasing smile indicate that my charisma is wearing off and she is beginning to get suspicious. I try to find a convincing way to restore her trust in me and to make her reveal 'my' personal information that Lisbon gave her, while Rena chooses to ignore me and turns to the folks I outran earlier.

Before I can come up with a brilliant plan, I notice from the corner of my eye that Lisbon is just disappearing at the other end of the hall. Damn, I forgot to keep track of the restroom door. And why does this woman move so fast all the time? Now it's running again. What else is new? I don't even have a stitch when I reach the exit. If I keep following Lisbon around for a couple of days, I'll be as fit as a fiddle.

Back in the car, my mind plays funny tricks on me. Images of a bridal Lisbon, walking down the aisle of a cheap chapel on the Strip with a lecherous guy in an Elvis costume, flash up and refuse to leave me alone.

We get back to Lisbon's neighborhood and I still try to align my established opinion of Lisbon's personality with the inconsistent happenings of the last 17 hours. I'm glad to get a break, some quiet time for contemplation without having to pay attention to traffic.

Sure, reading Lisbon is always a challenge. I like to think though that I made pretty good progress so far. I am able to predict her actions and reactions more often than not, and I also believe to have markedly deep insight into the motivations behind them. But this weekend throws me for a loop. Nothing adds up and Lisbon is acting so out of the character I envisioned for her that I doubt my skills, the one thing I always was certain of.

I try to come up with an innocent and logical explanation for the trip to Las Vegas, but the imaginary video clip of Lisbon and the King is too distracting. It's a cliché, I know, but a lot of people _do_ travel to Las Vegas if they're compulsive gamblers or pleasure-seeking, bored people or if they plan to get hitched. Two days ago I'd have easily ruled out any of those reasons in Lisbon's case. In fact, I'd have laughed if someone had suggested that, of all places in the world, Lisbon would pick this town for her next vacation.

Now, I'm not so sure what to think anymore.

Lisbon booked flights and a hotel room for two people. Rena didn't even flinch slightly when I suggested the second person to be me. Since she had the name and date of birth, it must be a man my age. A man who has a bad influence on Lisbon. Las Vegas was probably his idea. Seriously, how dense can a guy be to think that a woman like her would enjoy staying there for more than three days?

The fact that he got Lisbon to agree to it anyway feels like a punch in the gut. No, I don't like that guy at all. He's not good for her and I should stop him before nothing of 'my' Lisbon is left.

* * *

_I'm aware that the date of birth is not required to book a flight. Since there are plans to change this sometime this year and I really wanted to give Jane another clue, let's just pretend this story takes place in the future._


	4. Quality Time

At 11:23 AM, about half an hour after our return from the airport, a woman exits Lisbon's apartment building.

No, wait.

I almost choke on the chips I just put in my mouth.

Not _a_ woman, but _the_ woman I'm spying on.

She is dressed in a way so different from her usual attire, that I almost didn't recognize her. This situation undoubtedly calls for the use of binoculars for more thorough inspection.

Oh, yes.

Lisbon does look stunning in a sleeveless, knee-length black dress with red - no, not red, carmine - embroidery around the waist. Sandals and a simple necklace in the color of the embroidery and subtle makeup complete the outfit.

I always thought Lisbon in a dress or skirt would look strangely out of place and she wouldn't feel comfortable wearing them. Not that I actually spent time imagining her in clothes like that or anything. Erm... Okay, I admit it, I did. But not very often. Anyway, I was wrong. Not only does Lisbon behave as if she's dressed like that on a daily basis, she also accomplishes to look casual and sexy at once in the process.

I appreciate that she takes the time to open her mailbox and check her mail before walking to her car. It gives me more time to take in the rare, intriguing sight. She really shouldn't hide her legs in pants all the time. But then again, if she'd walk around like this at the office, our quota of solved cases would drastically slump as I'd have even more trouble focusing on work than I have anyway.

As Lisbon is driving downtown (too fast again, by the way), I'm brought back to reality. Sad but true: Lisbon didn't put on that dress as a visual treat for me. It's almost noon, so I surmise that she's meeting someone for lunch. While waiting in the car in front of her house I got to the point of being able to convince myself that Vegas guy doesn't really pose a threat for me. But now, as Lisbon in her little black dress steers her car onto the parking lot of an Italian restaurant, I suffer a setback.

I'm experiencing the same tingling, conflicting anticipation I had before, when Lisbon started to remove her bathrobe. I'm curious as hell about Lisbon's lunch date, but at the same time I want to close my eyes and live in denial ever after.

Okay, my eyes are still open. Curiosity wins this time.

The restaurant looks kind of fancy, but not enough to offer valet parking. Dressed-up Lisbon...Yes, I still didn't really grasp that she's wearing a dress – thanks for noticing. Where was I? Right. Lisbon (in a dress) exits her car and walks up the three steps to the entry.

Suddenly, so far hidden in the shadows by the door, a man approaches her and greets her enthusiastically.

Huh. _That_ is not what I expected.

The guy must be about 60 with his grey hair and well-groomed beard. He knows how to dress, wearing a really nice, tailored suit which distracts from the fact that he's a little overweight. No, it's impossible that this is Vegas guy who is in my age group.

Seriously, Lisbon, _another_ man? I apparently know zero about that woman.

A devastating flash of thought hits me. Nah, this can't be. Rena couldn't have thought that _I_ am 60, right? I fight the urge to use the rearview mirror for a quick check-up, searching for deepened crinkles and undetected grey hair. I'm not looking 60. Period.

Back to the indeed old guy, who just hands Lisbon a yellow flower. A rose? I pick up my trusty binoculars. A daffodil. Really weird choice to give a woman as a single bloom. Maybe he is clueless about the language of flowers or there's an inside joke between him and Lisbon hidden somewhere. Either way, Lisbon seems pretty pleased with her gift and even hugs him and kisses his cheek. The situation doesn't look particularly romantic, but I sense a certain familiarity between them. As they walk into the restaurant, he puts an arm around her shoulder and they merrily chat and laugh with each other.

A relative? A friend, maybe? Boy, I hope so. Or her former college professor? With Lisbon being his extracurricular teacher's pet? After all, still waters run deep. The longer I'm following Lisbon, the more my mind takes me to places I definitely don't want to go. Focus on what you see, Patrick, instead of jumping to wild conclusions!

After upbraiding myself this way, I feel better. What now? It could be fun observing them over lunch...

Excitedly I get out of Rigsby's car and walk over to the restaurant. I'm really in the mood for this right now. Hiding behind a menu, using wall mirrors and chromed napkin holders to sneak a peek – a classic. Besides, I could use a bite. Those chips I just had are way less nourishing than you'd think.

Behind the entrance door I face a problem in form of a guy in tails, standing behind a desk and starting to look me over disapprovingly from head to toe the minute I come in his field of vision. Crap. I'm so used to wearing suits that it totally slipped my mind that now, of all times, I don't. Oh well, I'll just have to make up for my lack of chic by being extra charming.

"A table for one, please." Smile like you mean it, be sure of yourself and never break eye contact – it always works to get you what you want.

Or, always but this time. "I am sorry, sir, all tables are reserved." He doesn't look the tiniest bit sorry though, rather smug and pleased that he has the power to give me a hard time.

I take a twenty-dollar bill out of my pants pocket and casually hand it over. "All tables?"

Without even looking at the money or saying anything, he brusquely makes it very clear that our conversation is over by simply turning away from me. How rude! The guy must have taken a nap when the subject of 'The customer is always right.' came up during his job training.

I'm pretty sure that he only didn't let me in because of my outfit, so I still have an ace up my sleeve. In the car a suit, picked up from the dry-cleaner's just two days ago, is waiting for me.

Changing clothes in a car is a challenge if you're taller than dwarf-sized, especially if the car is parked in a busy shopping street on a Saturday. After swapping my jeans for suit pants, the worst is over. Or so I think, until I sit there shirtless and notice two teenage girls next to my car, staring and giggling. I flash them a smile and their cheeks turn cherry-red. They look away, but still steal a glance at me now and then. I should feel embarrassed, and maybe I would if their behavior wouldn't be a boost to my ego: The girls wouldn't act like that if I'd look like 60.

Clad in my stylish dark suit I return to my impolite opponent, who doesn't look any friendlier. In fact, he looks at me as if I'm nuts and tries to dispirit me by throwing steely glances at me.

"I told you, _sir_ , there is no table available for lunch." He emphasizes the 'sir' the same way Rena did earlier today. It's a damn conspiracy of customer service personnel all over town.

"Come on, I can see from here that the restaurant is almost empty. Besides, I saw only exactly two people enter in the last 20 minutes."

"We are completely booked up. I can't help you, _sir_." There, he did it again. I swear, if he's gonna 'sir' me one more time... I never get the chance to wreak any havoc. Another guy, very tall and bulky, shows up to "walk me to the door".

Alright then, no indoor investigation for me this time. I console myself by buying a huge ice-cream cone at a booth down the street and then go back to the car.

Almost an hour later I'm so lost in a Sudoku puzzle that I almost miss Lisbon and her companion leaving the restaurant. They hug in front of old guy's car, then Lisbon walks - smiling and daffodil-sniffing - over to her SUV. Before getting in she waves at the man, who just pulls out of the parking lot and makes Lisbon laugh by honking goodbye.

I get a glimpse of his license number and write it down on the cover of my puzzle magazine. Right now I'm not really sure what to do with it, but it's good to collect all information available. As Lisbon drives past me, I duck. Then I turn the car and once again chase after her.

This time, we don't go far. Lisbon's next stop is a beauty salon & day spa whose slogan promises to let Lisbon's body and soul enter a world of sensation. Recalling the bathrobe incident, Lisbon's body already looked pretty sensational to me. Maybe she just gets a haircut. Or she pays someone to relieve the tense muscles of her back, caused by working too many hours on the Harris case.

Really, Teresa, I'd have massaged you for free.

I chastise my naughty mind for getting sidetracked again and try hard to focus on my investigation. I guess going in there is not an option. Whatever Lisbon is doing at this place, it can take a while. So I get out of the car to soak up some sun and relax for a while.

As the sun beams warm my face, I get an idea how to use my newly gathered license plate info. I go back to the car to call Rigsby. Yes, it's mean to interrupt his weekend again, but I'm pretty sure that Cho is blunt enough to switch off his phone when he's not working. Plus, it's more fun to get a Rigsby / Van Pelt update as a bonus.

Rigsby is not thrilled to hear my voice again. But I take the wind out of his sails by asking him why he has his phone on if he doesn't want to be disturbed.

"So, Rigsby, how's it going with Van Pelt?"

"Fine." He answers through clenched teeth.

"Ah, she's sitting right next to you, huh?"

"What do you want, Jane?" That's the question I've been waiting for.

"Who do I call if I have a license number and want to find out the owner of the car?"

"Well, Grace is the specialist for that. Lisbon and Cho and I have access to the database as well, but you know, Grace, she's the best and she..." Aww, young love. Still, I need to interrupt his praise of Grace's talents.

"That's not what I meant, Rigsby. Neither of you is in the office today and it's pretty urgent. So who would give me, being off-duty, the information without asking any questions?"

I become impatient, Rigsby gets suspicious, but after swearing that all my actions are legal and convincing him that his car is just fine, he gives me a name and phone number.

"Thanks, Rigsby. I'll refer to you when I call him."

"Don't!" It's fun to make Rigsby panic.

"I won't. Bye!"

"Hey, Jane? It's going really great. That love and affection thing you taught me works wonders." He tells me in a conspiratorial voice. "You should try it yourself sometime."

"I'm working on it." And how I do.

"Really? Is that what you need that license plate info for?"

"I'm not liberated to tell you or I might have to kill you." I joke. "Or, more likely, the woman in question would kill you." I mumble under my breath.

"You're going after Lisbon?" I wouldn't have thought he'd figure my little hint out so fast. He must be really frightened of Lisbon's authority that he immediately thought of her. I probably shouldn't have said anything, Rigsby can be quite the blabbermouth sometimes. I already hear him whispering with Grace, who is apparently quite excited at the news.

"I can't talk about that right now, Rigsby. Gotta go."

"Good luck, man." He sounds like he thinks I'll need it.

I'm not really sure how Rigsby, after several foredoomed attempts of relationships with other women, finally got the girl of his dreams while I ended up stalking Lisbon. Apparently the pupil outplayed the teacher.

I guess it never seemed right to just try to get together with Lisbon in the usual way. She is too precious to use the 'love and affection, flowers and candy and insipid pick-up line' routine on her. Yes, I could have just asked her who the caller was, but I doubt she'd have told me. And I guess I also could have just asked her if she wants to spend time with me this weekend or if there's someone who keeps her from doing so, but I'm not sure how I could have kept a straight face in front of her if she'd rejected me.

If I find out on my own that I don't stand a chance, I can silently step back and nobody needs to know. Well, nobody now but Rigsby and Van Pelt. And Cho will hear about it as soon as his phone is on again. But I doubt any of them will have the balls to mention it to Lisbon. And if I see a chance for us, I can still ask her out, right? I guess the purpose of this whole mission is to buy me some time before the big smackdown.

Although, I have to admit, I had plenty of time already. Months have past since the night when the need for revenge stopped being my only purpose in life. The night when Lisbon found me covered in my own and Red John's blood and with simply holding my hand managed to promise me that everything will be alright – a promise that she kept. The night when her eyes told me that she'll wait for me until I'm ready for her – an unspoken agreement, but one I firmly believed in for all those months.

Did I read her wrong? Or did I simply hestitate for too long until she decided to move on?

A sigh escapes my throat. Alright, enough with the melancholy – there is still hope. I take a deep breath and call the guy at the CBI whose number Rigsby gave me.

"Hey, this is Patrick Jane. I work as a consultant for the Serious Crimes unit and..."

"I know who you are." I hope that's not a bad sign.

"Okay. I was wondering if you could find out the owner of a car for me..."

"Number?" A man of few words. I like that guy. I give him the number and hear him typing.

"Car is registered to a Dr. Alfred Lisbon. Relative of your boss?" I feel a weight falling from my shoulders. He _must_ be a relative.

"That's only a coincidence. Is there any further information on Dr. Lisbon?"

He hits the keyboard again. "Dr. Alfred Gene Lisbon, born June 29th 1948 in Boston, works at the Mercy General Hospital, no criminal record, widowed, no kids. You don't need his SSN and stuff, do you?"

"No, that's more than enough." Because his niece/second cousin/whatever just leaves the spa and I gotta follow her. I start to thank him, but he already hung up.

Lisbon looks even more relaxed than before. So she probably got that massage. A pleasurable little flashback to the lotion incident occupies my mind. Her billowy hair is also a little bit shorter and shinier. So, maybe she got ready for a date tonight? At least we can definitely rule out the doctor as a suspect. And, there's another relief: I definitely don't look like 60.

Things are starting to work for instead of against me. Of course, there's still the guy who wants to abduct her to Las Vegas, but I have more than a week to prevent that from happening. Always think positive. Confidence is key.

We slowly drive back to Lisbon's place. The visit to the spa seems to have made her more susceptive to speed limitation. Lisbon goes up to her apartment and I hide at my usual spot. I begin to feel at home here; it's nice spending some quality time outside work with Lisbon. Even if not really _with_ her. Yes, I definitely could get used to that.

Over an uneventful hour, while I wait for the sun to set, I have time to think of the best way to initiate my scheduled visit to Lisbon. I promised myself to take action if she's alone tonight, so I will. Should I tell her that I observed her every move since Friday?

Just as I steel myself to get out of the car earlier than sunset, Lisbon heads out again, now in the jeans and T-shirt she wore this morning. She wouldn't go on a date like that, would she? Maybe 'honey' likes it casual.

We soon arrive at a supermarket a couple of blocks away. I consider waiting in the car while Lisbon buys her groceries. It won't be easy to stay undetected inside the store, especially since I feel no desire to offend some elderly housewives by doing another striptease in the car to change my clothes.

But my curiosity wins: it could be interesting to get an insight into Lisbon's shopping habits and food preferences. Besides, they sometimes offer free food samples in supermarkets and something to stop my stomach from rumbling would be great.

After I enter the store I need to peek into three aisles before spotting Lisbon in the bread & cereal section, reading the back of a box of granola and then putting it in her cart. Some bread and milk and butter follow before she moves on to the meat counter. I can't see what kind of meat she chooses, but it seems to be a lot more than you'd need for one serving.

Then Lisbon's shopping strategy switches from purchasing everyday to luxury goods. Two bottles of expensive wine, oysters, caviar and chocolate truffles all end up in her cart. Then she tones it down a little by adding some less extravagant, yet also suspicious items: whipped cream, strawberries, artichokes and asparagus. All in all it looks as if Lisbon plans to host the most clichéd romantic evening since the dawn of mankind. Maybe she just wants to indulge herself tonight and I'm once more reading too much into her behavior? Right. Dream on, Jane. Still, I'm not ready to give up on believing that everything is totally innocent.

Lisbon walks over to the drugstore section now, with me following close behind until I find a place to hide between some piles of dog food. I hold my breath and hope she gets cough drops or paper tissues or something similarly harmless. She seemed to feel a bit under the weather earlier this week.

But no, with one swift move of her right hand Lisbon destroys all my hopes and dreams as she drops a small box into her cart. And then she rips my heart out by adding a second one.

What hearing her tell someone to love them or booking a flight for herself and a man didn't achieve, Lisbon buying condoms does: I am ready to surrender. All the hints and clues viewed individually didn't look so bad, but now I am able to put them in perspective. It's like doing a jigsaw puzzle and every piece you add makes it more ovious that the finished picture will show a horse. Until you add the last piece you can still pretend it displays a cow, before having to face the truth in the end.

The realization has the same impact as if someone had slapped me in the face. Lisbon is in a relationship, which makes her do silly things like calling people 'honey' and cooking ridiculously romantic meals and which obviously includes sex. And she seems happy with it and I could only make her unhappy by interfering. She'll go to Vegas and marry that guy, whoever it is. Then she will probably adopt his surname and I can't even call her Lisbon anymore. He'll even take that away from me.

I just want to go back to the office to lay down on my couch and feel sorry for myself for the next hours, days and weeks. No, I can't take any more. It's enough to know what she's doing, I don't need visual aids to be able to picture who she's doing it with.

I hide in my corner by the dog food and wait for her to pass by. As she walks down the housewares aisle, I look after her and, to increase my misery, she stops in front of a rack with candles, takes a smell at some and puts them in her cart.

PI Jane is definitely retiring, immediately effective. And maybe Consultant Jane should too. For starters, I should call in sick on Monday.

Dispirited and lost in thought, I enter the aisle parallel to the one Lisbon took. As I look up to find the fastest way out of the supermarket, I stop short. I should have expected this, knowing that life has a habit of kicking you in the groin at the most inopportune times. Coiling up in that corner by the dog food and allowing despair to take over seems like a pretty good idea now.

Because the sight at the other end of the aisle... Well, that sight is by far more than I can bear in my defeated condition.

* * *

_Evil chliffhanger, I know._ _I'm so glad that I know what happens next. *runs for cover* Okay, I'll stop being mean now and better start writing the final chapter to get it up soon._


	5. Thunderstruck

What I want most of all in this moment is to retreat as fast as possible. So far, my investigation didn't harm anyone but myself and if I try really hard, I might eventually succeed to forget about the last two days. In a couple of decades or so.

What I absolutely don't want right now is to confront Lisbon or, even worse, to talk to her. I really can't deal yet with her feelings for me, or better the lack of them, and I'm pretty sure that at this point any conversation with her would end in disaster and our relationship would permanently take a turn for the worse.

Unfortunately, in life it often doesn't matter at all what we want or don't want. Right here and now, in a supermarket on a Saturday evening, proving this theory is easy.

_Evidence A:_ Teresa Lisbon, technically my boss and incidentally also the woman I fancy, is walking into my direction, leaving her shopping cart with all the incriminating items behind.

_Evidence B:_ She is looking mad. Furious even. Cheeks reddened, brows furrowed, feet stomping. I haven't seen her like this since I hypnotized suspects two days in a row.

_Evidence C:_ She shouts "Jane!" from the other end of the aisle in such an uproarious voice, that probably even the costumers in the most remote corners of the supermarket or out in the parking lot can hear her _._

I'm doomed.

Putting on a happy face and appearing cheerful is hard at the moment and I'm not sure I can manage it, seeing how gloomy I actually feel. But what other choice do I have? Running away from Lisbon? Right, that would be very mature and not suspicious at all.

No, in a case like this, offense is the best defense. I force my mouth to form the smile that I believe to be my most soothing version and to take a few steps to meet Lisbon half-way, ignoring the disfavoring stares of the audience Lisbon's shouting attracted. They are mainly middle-aged women, with an occasional man or kid thrown into the mix for good measure, and they all seem to take sides with Lisbon, even though she's the one to disturb the peace with her loudness.

"Lisbon! What a nice surprise to meet you here!" I exclaim in an overly honey-sweet voice before she can say anything, almost making myself nauseous in the process. It might be better to act a little more low-key to sound believable. "I had no idea we frequent the same supermarket."

"Why are you following me?" Lisbon straightforwardly demands to know, totally ignoring my friendly approach.

I raise my hands in defense and meet her with disbelief, a behavior which in most similar situations before proved very effective to avert suspicion.

"Lisbon, what are talking about? I'm only here to get some groceries, just like you." Arms akimbo, she frowns. "Seriously, Lisbon, I swear."

She raises her eyebrows and eyes me unconvincedly. "Where is your cart?"

Damn, I should have taken one.

"Well... I only need a few things, so I didn't bother with a cart." I explain and hope she buys my lousy excuse. Maybe I can accomplish to not only assure her of my innocence, but also to make her feel guilty for distrusting me.

"Oh, really?" There is a touch of – amusement? sarcasm? what? - in her voice. And did I just notice a hint of an impish smile play on her lips?

Utterly perplexed, I tear my eyes away from her inscrutable mouth and show her a 1000-watt smile. "Really."

For some seconds, filled with trembling uncertainty, she seems to contemplate whether or not I'm credible, still sporting that enigmatic Mona Lisa smile.

"Jane, I might have believed you if I had only met you here." Huh? "But since you are following me since I left work on Friday..."

I'm completely taken aback. How much worse can this day get? My oh so charming, strategic smile disappears and I feel my jaw drop in shock. I probably look pretty stupid right now, thunderstruck even, if Lisbon's gleeful expression is any indicator.

"You... you knew the whole time?" I manage to stammer.

She nods and looks like she's having a really hard time not to burst out laughing. For my taste she is enjoying this distressful situation far too much. "I noticed your confusion when I left the office and figured you had overheard my phone call." Her eyes request a confirmation.

"Only the last part." I wouldn't mind if the ground would open up now and swallow me.

"Ah, the crucial one." There it is again, that mischievous grin, now in full bloom. "When I drove home, I watched out for your car because I suspected you'd follow me." She knows me so well. "You weren't openly nosy like you usually are, so I assumed you'd come up with another way to find out who called me. "

My nice plan and my careful preparations, they were all in vain? "I thought I was cautious enough. I really felt invisible."

"Oh, you were really good. If I hadn't expected you to observe me, I probably wouldn't have noticed your presence. Especially after you used another car."

Is she taunting me now? No, she does look genuine. I can't believe it: She actually tries to console me by praising my detective skills. Me, the guy who just made a total fool of himself and invaded her privacy on many levels. That woman never ceases to amaze me.

"So you knew the whole time I was shadowing you? And you _let_ me?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I didn't want to ruin your little adventure. Besides, I was curious how far you would go."

"Ah, so you put on a show for me this weekend, huh?" And Las Vegas and all that aphrodisiac food in her cart and maybe even the phone call itself were a hoax? How cool would that be? Okay, it would be mean if she'd have played tricks on me like that, but I'd be too relieved to be mad. Anxiously I wait for her answer.

"Nah, not really. I put the lunch date with Uncle Alfred forward by a few days, but other than that I did what I had planned anyway." Why do I even bother hoping? Lisbon won't bite my head off for snooping around, but she still has a boyfriend. I'd gladly let her kick my ass for my misdemeanors if it would make Vegas guy disappear.

"You know, Jane..." Lisbon interrupts my wallowing in self-pity. "I was _really_ impressed how you climbed up that fire ladder at my place. That was _so_ superhero of you." Who would have thought that someone mocking me could look this cute?

"So the striptease interruptus was strategy? You're a mean woman, Lisbon."

"A girl can't give everything away at the first stakeout." Her voice is dripping with mock chastity. As she innocently flutters her eyelashes, she is so dazzlingly beautiful that I get the irresistible urge to kiss her.

Without thinking, I take a step closer. Suddenly she puts on a solemn face, causing me to stop. "Jane, why did you follow me?"

I open my mouth to answer her question with a sassy, quibbling remark, but then I think she deserves more than that. _I_ deserve more than that. So I tell her the truth, or at least parts of it.

"I was curious who you talked to and I thought I might find out this weekend." She looks at me expectantly. "I knew my plan was doomed when my hands got rusty on that stupid fire ladder, but then you flashed your naked back..." One warning look of her and I get serious again. "I just wanted to make sure you don't end up with some psychopathic idiot. There are quite a lot of those out there."

Lisbon raises an eyebrow. "No kidding." Okay, I deserve that.

"Jane, I'm a CBI agent. I can take good care of myself. Besides, you could have just asked who I was talking to."

"You wouldn't have told me."

"I would."

"No, you'd have been evasive and you wouldn't have told me."

"I would have told you!"

"Yeah, right. Because you're so keen on me asking you personal questions."

"Jane!"

It is actually heart-warming to have a good, old-fashioned battle of words with Lisbon. But I shouldn't take it to extremes.

"I'm sorry." Looking her straight in the eyes, I place my hands on her upper arms to demonstrate that my apology is sincere. She doesn't shy away and I take that as a good sign. "I really am."

Her face displays that she is processing everything until her expression finally softens. "Okay."

But of course she doesn't let me off the hook so easily. "So you were curious and concerned for my well-being. What else?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I play dumb.

"Come on, you were so engrossed in that investigation, there must be more." She studies my face for a while and then beams with delight, as if she just in this moment found enlightenment, but I am sure she planned to say the next words all along. "You are jealous."

My head jolts up.

"Stop making a face as if I caught you with your hands in the cookie jar. Just admit it. You are jealous, Jane."

She can read me like an open book. How did this happen? Lately I must have been so wrapped up in my tangled emotions that I neglected to shield them from the outside world. The last two days for sure aren't the most triumphal ones in my long career of charming and tricking people.

In fact, I think I've met my match.

"Fine, I'm jealous." I mumble, scarcely audible. Damn the consequences, Lisbon wouldn't leave me alone anyway before teasing out a confession.

In all fairness it must be said that she is a graceful winner. She doesn't gloat and she doesn't give me the impression that she'll never let me live this down. She just says "That wasn't so hard, was it?" and briefly squeezes my hand.

So far, the conversation isn't half as troublesome as I feared. After taking a deep breath and preparing myself for bad news, I jump in at the deep end. "Lisbon, who was that on the phone?"

The mischievous grin is back. "You'll be pleased to know that you don't have to worry about me. Really, I think you'll like him. "

Really, I think I won't. I rather want to make this guy's life a living hell.

"He's the most gorgeous, funny, loving, smart,... "

I shouldn't have asked. Trying not to listen to Lisbon's lavish praise of mystery man's many, many talents and virtues, I have a hard time maintaining my composure and fighting the desire to spin on my heels and bolt. A nagging pain creeps up my chest and embraces my heart.

"... six-year-old in the world."

Wait. I emerge from my puddle of self-pity. "Six-year-old?"

"Jane, I was talking to my nephew." Amusement is playing on her lips and twinkling in her eyes.

"Your nephew?" I'm feeling more dumbfounded than ever before. After my shock a couple of minutes ago, I wouldn't have thought that an increase would be possible.

"Yes, my nephew. He and his parents were supposed to come visit me, but he got chickenpox and can't travel. He is really sad about it and calls me all the time to tell me he misses me. It's really cute. He even talked me into visiting them soon."

"Does he live in Las Vegas, by any chance?" I ask weakly.

"He does. Well, Boulder City, actually, but I couldn't get a flight there so I need to fly to Vegas and they pick me up at the airport."

I was jealous of a little boy.

I engaged in car chases, was almost torn to pieces by a dog, did unauthorized license number research, almost starved to death and got my heart broken – and all this because a six-year-old with chickenpox dreadfully misses his aunt?

Unbelievable.

It takes some time before I fully grasp what Lisbon just said. There's no Vegas guy who plans to snatch her from under my nose? She doesn't have a boyfriend. I've been jealous for nothing? Well, not nothing. This weekend opened my eyes to the possibility that Lisbon won't wait for me forever.

I still stand a chance. That is, if she feels the same for me like I feel for her. She just _must_ feel they same. Otherwise she wouldn't have put on that charade. Right? She really had me chasing her, literally.

Wait, why did she put all this weird stuff in her cart?

Suddenly Lisbon's face is right in front of me. I hold my breath – scared, exhilarated, numb, raptured at the thought that she might intend to kiss me now. I stare down at her lips until I lose sight of them as they wander past my mouth and cheek up to my ear, never touching my face but being precariously close to it. Heated molecules of air collide with my skin, making my spine tingle with sheer anticipation.

"I love my nephew, but there's still space in my heart for another guy, _honey_." Lisbon whispers in my ear.

When I finally comprehend the significance of her words and recover from the effects of her warm breath tickling my face, our audience is about to disperse and Lisbon is on the way back to her shopping cart. Keeping up with that woman is a tough full-time job.

Half-way she turns around to me. "Are you coming? Or do you think I'm buying all this stuff just for myself?"

Well, someone has to do the job. And luckily it's me.

Grinning from ear to ear like a lovesick idiot, I hurry to catch up with her. As I'm by her side, I notice that she's smiling at least as broadly as I am.

"How about I cook dinner and you do the dishes afterwards? Deal?"She suggests.

"I love doing the dishes. I'd wash all the dishes of a canteen kitchen if you only feed me first."

Lisbon chuckles. "Right, you must be pretty famished after not getting delicious Italian food for lunch."

She is responsible for that? I knew it! Under normal circumstances I would have been allowed to enter that restaurant wearing wet swimming trunks. "How many bucks did you offer that guy in tails?"

"Oh, nothing at all. He's Uncle Alfred's patient who's too anxious to refuse a request of his urologist. And Uncle Alfred again is too kindhearted to refuse a request of his favorite niece."

Sneaky Lisbon. Fascinating.

She seems to be very pleased with herself and her little scheme. In an attempt to gain the upper hand back, I bend forward to kiss her.

Okay, who am I kidding? The balance of power between us is the last thing one my mind when my lips aim for Lisbon's. I just really want to finally kiss her, so I do.

My arms go around her, they are full of her. The feeling is beyond wonderful. I can almost feel her heart beating against my chest. For so very long I have thought of her, dreamed of her, yearned for her and now she is here. She responds to my embrace by wrapping her arms around my neck and playing with the curls at my nape. One little touch of her hands is enough to set me on fire. The feeling is apparently mutual as a breathy murmur of contentment escapes her lips.

I don't close my eyes until my lips are very close to hers and my vision starts to gets blurry. I want to see her - every little expression, every blink of her eyes, every freckle on her skin. My lips find hers in a tentative, searching way. She kisses me back with a smile curving her lips and I tease her, pulling back slightly only to move forward again to recapture her.

My lips are drawing tiny little circles against hers. With the most gentle of meetings the tip of my tongue touches her lips, tasting the sweet warmth of her skin. An entranced sigh escapes her throat as I probe softly, parting her lips. Almost instinctively our tongues brush against one another, exploring and adoring.

Kissing Lisbon feels like the most natural thing in the world. It feels right. And I can't do anything but revel in her sweet taste and inhale her intoxicating scent of cinnamon and summer rain and and apple shampoo.

I open my mouth wider to let her in more. Her tongue accepts the invitation and dips in again to touch my own, then retracts and brushes against my teeth. I pull her even closer towards me then, our bodies melting together as one. My tongue lingers against hers before nipping at her lower lip.

After a while she breaks the kiss, opening her eyes slowly and gazing into mine, before burying her face in the fabric that covers my shoulder. We just stand there, silently embracing each other and taking delight in the aftermath of our perfect first kiss. I refuse to open my eyes and to pay regard to the audience we most certainly gathered around us again. At least for a while we are the only two people in the world.

"You know, I'm not sure having dinner with you is such a good idea." I finally aspire against the sensitive skin of her neck, whereupon she detaches herself from my arms and looks up at me. Now it's her turn to be flabbergasted while I really have trouble keeping a straight face after this mind-blowing, life-altering kiss.

"W..why?" She stutters, her big, expressive eyes clouded with confusion and hurt feelings. Oh come on, she can't be that insecure about her kissing abilities, can she?

I better put her out of her misery, although I thoroughly enjoy my little payback.

"Yeah, well, I feel pretty tricked. And manipulated. And you also misled me. You're a dangerous woman. Who knows what you'll do to me after luring me into your apartment under false pretenses? You promise me food, but instead you might just..."

Before I can finish the sentence, her hand playfully hits my arm. "Oh, shut up. You've tricked and manipulated and misled me so many times that you should be glad I even still talk to you. Beside, if you'd mind me taking advantage of you, you wouldn't have gone through all that trouble of the last two days."

Raising eyebrows, a cheeky smile and slight blushing – and once more I find myself standing alone in the middle of the supermarket, mesmerized and stunned. Naughty talk already? Wow.

I join Lisbon to help her put the stuff on the conveyor belt. When it's the turn of the two boxes of condoms, I grin and wink at her. She rolls her eyes, but can't quite suppress a smile herself.

As we leave the supermarket, me carrying the shopping bag like a proper gentleman and intertwining the fingers of my free hand with Lisbon's, the last beams of the big, red sun slowly disappear between the houses on the other side of the street. Hey, I even got the girl before my ultimatum ran out!

Together we walk over to my new _girlfriend_ 's car. You have no idea how marvelous it is to be able to call her that. Out of the corner of my eyes I notice Rigsby's car and feel a little bit guilty for just leaving it here until whenever I'll be able to pick it up. That is, if it'll even still be here then. It's not the safest part of town. But I'm so glad that I can drive _with_ Lisbon instead of behind her, that I'm even willing to risk having to buy Rigsby a new car.

Life is funny sometimes, huh?

Less than an hour ago, I was totally devastated. Now, I'm so inebriated by happiness and love and the sweet air of this mild spring evening, that I could jump for joy. But once we're in the car, I rather use my liberated energy for something even more enjoyable and pull Lisbon... Teresa (I guess I should get used to that) close to me.

When my lips are only a millimeter away from hers, I abruptly pause as a thought hits me. Something is nagging at me since she revealed that she isn't in a relationship, but only now I know what it is.

"Who did you buy that second ticket to Vegas for?"

She cups my face in her delicate hands and kisses me gently on the corner of my mouth. "For you, of course, you moron." She whispers against my lips, the tenderness of her palms on my skin and the loving look in her eyes betraying the insult and soothing it immediately.

The last thing that crosses my mind, before my lips capture hers and all thoughts subside, is:

Mission accomplished, PI Jane.

**~The End~**

* * *

_I had really fun writing this story and I am a little sad that it's over now..._

_Thanks for reading, I hoped you liked the last chapter. For once I wanted Lisbon to be the one doing the tricking and Jane the one being tricked, since it's on the show usually the other way round._


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